The Mind Sanctuary Adventure Blog continues
An unexpected turn in the road.
Hello.
Continuing with the theme of being open and honest with you, I need to say I didn’t feel very excited when I thought about writing these next few blogs. (Bare with me). I’m currently re reading each journey, making a list of the practices used to combat the fear and nerves and figuring out how to share them with you so that you can use them for yourself.
It felt like I’d be writing an instruction manual. A bit like the ones you’d get with a flat pack from Ikea. Handy to have but bland to read. It felt boring to write. Until, I started to actually write it. It seems the adventure style is continuing. This is so obvious to me now but it wasn’t a few days ago.
I began to think about Mindful Lisa, that resourceful part of me, that’s kept me sane and calm on my journey. My mind drifted back to remembering when Mindful Lisa didn’t exist. She hadn’t been born. This thinking led to an unexpected turn in the road, remembering the birth of Mindful Lisa and how she came about. Now this, I find super exciting to write about. It means I get to share the ‘lessons’ and the ‘how tos’ in a much more colourful way. Definitely not flat pack style.
It means you’ll be meeting the me in my 20’s. The me before being a therapist, a coach and a teacher. The me that needed to learn all of the lessons I’ve learnt today.
I hope you can read this from a place of non-judgment. I hope you enjoy the lessons as well as the journey I’ve taken to learn them. I’ve had a few cringe moments remembering some of my old reactions. I do feel a little vulnerable sharing these next blogs with you.
In order to share the next chapters, I’ve held close a quote by an idol of mine. Dr Brene Brown. It reminds me how important it is for me to continue to accept myself exactly as I am, as I was and as I will be with kindness. She says ‘Loving ourselves through the process of owning our story is the bravest thing we will ever do’.
May I always be brave enough to share the experiences I’ve had, in order to better help others. Love Lisa x
Sri Lanka – 1999
The lake is pretty huge, 3.4km in length to be precise. I can see benches all the way around it. I’m super tired, fed up, scared and boiling hot. I landed in Sri Lanka last night having done zero research (again!). I’ve realised I haven’t got enough money to be here. Its only about 9am but already the sun feels like it’s burning a hole in my head. The sound of ringing bells as rickshaws fly by is deafening. Motorbikes carrying families of 6 race along the unmarked roads as if their lives depend upon reaching their destination yesterday. A herd of elephants, chained by the ankles head in my direction like convicts heading to a death sentence. A young girl in rags does back flips in front of me while a young boy runs beside her holding his hands out for money. I’m standing in the true meaning of the word for chaos and I can feel it. I want to put my hands over my ears, close my eyes and drop my big fat body to the bottom of the lake in front of me.
F##k What the hell am I gonna do, what am I gonna do? This is utter Bo###ks. Eventually I get across the crazy road. As far as I can make out it has just 2 rules. Drive fast and make as much noise as possible. The fast pace matches my panic, last night, whilst searching for accommodation, I realised I’ve enough money to barely survive here a week. My ticket is a 6 week return. I’m screwed, I’m royally screwed. There’s no one to bail me out. Neither of my parents come from money or have money and my friends are like me: Seasonal waitresses and kitchen staff, we’re still figuring out what we want to do with our lives. I’m jealous of those that have a clear vision of the direction their lives are moving in. Here I am, ripe old age of 24 and I’ve no clue what I want to do or where I want to be.
‘Why did I think this trip was a good idea? I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing, I’m in real trouble now’. The weight of the fear begins to slow me down as it sits heavy on my shoulders. I’ve left the hostel in such a blind panic of needing space that I’ve brought nothing with me and I’ve no clue what the name of the place is. I don’t want to get lost. Slumping down onto one of the many benches my mind drifts back to 3 months ago. I’m sat in the local Drs surgery. I’ve just dropped a tray at work and had a complete panic attack. I’m sat in front of him panting and sobbing. ‘Lisa, I’m signing you off with stress and depression, I suggest you get some help, here’s a prescription for some tablets and I’m signing you up for some counselling’. Two weeks after that diagnosis, I’ve chucked the tablets in the bin, decided I don’t need any ‘talking therapy’ thank-you very much, what I need is to get away from this s##t life of mine.
Looking around the lake, I’m desperately wishing that life would just be still for a while. You know, like go into freeze mode or pause like a movie so I don’t have to think, or make a decision, or hear any of this god damn noise. Sitting further around the lake from me, I spot a very thin lady. She’s sat, bent over a long scrawny walking stick. Her chin resting on the top of her hands. Even from this distance, although she looks to be about 100 years old, I can see her super shiny eyes. Looking directly at me, she raises her thin right hand and gestures with 1 finger for me to go to her. Like a snake hypnotised by his charmer, I move towards her bench. The closer I get, I notice how the sun has drank the life out of what was probably, once, a vibrantly colored sari and head scarf. Wow, that’s a lot of wrinkles, I think as I follow her gesture of tapping the seat beside her for me to sit down. Her face and hands are the only skin visible and they’re seriously weathered and old. Her eyes though seem as young as a child’s. Those eyes are so bright. Magnetic almost. She oozes kindness. I feel safe sat here with this stranger that doesn’t feel like a stranger. We sit in silence for a moment, just looking at each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. I’m grateful for this reprieve from the darkness of fear that was beginning to swallow me up. She takes hold of my left hand ‘Deary, you’ve travelled a long way’.
Oh god, seriously? She wants to read my palm? I’ve travelled a long way hey? Isn’t hard to figure that out as I sit here in shorts, a vest, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Hardly Sri Lankan looking am I? ‘Look’, I say to the lady kindly, I can’t afford to be here let alone pay you to read my palm, I’ve got a banana if you want it’. I’d hastily grabbed a banana for breakfast on my way out of the hostel. ‘Thank you though’. I take back my hand and stay sat, intermittently looking at the lady and looking out towards the lake. She doesn’t take the browning banana. ‘Deary, the answer to your problem is in that library over there’. Pointing over to the other side of the lake I see a building. ‘Go on’ she says, ‘go now, your answer is in there’. Like an obedient child I follow the direction of her pointing finger and find the building to be a library. Random, I think, a Sri Lankan library, not sure how this is gonna help, but what have I got to lose? Walking through the heavy wooden doors, I’m greeted by a desk that looks more like a trestle table whose legs will surely break if 1 more book is placed upon it. Scanning the small library from the position of the door, I wonder how Sri Lankan books are going to help me. After a few minutes wondering through the isles, feeling even more deflated than when I walked in, I turn to leave. In my peripheral vision a notice board captures my attention. My eyes lock onto 1 of the posters. ‘Buddhist Meditation Center, £1 per day, accommodation and food included. All Buddhist and Monk practices must be followed’. My heart starts pounding at great speed, oh my god, I can survive. If I go stay there for 2 weeks I’ll have enough money to survive by the beach until my flight leaves. Wow! Borrowing a pen and paper I take down the address and practically skip back around the lake to thank the lovely Sri Lankan lady. She’s gone already. Nowhere to be seen. I dance back to the hostel, collect my luggage and begin the journey up the mountains by bus. It’s a hot and sweaty ride. The rickety old bus is carrying way too many passengers for its size. I practically fall out when it stops a couple of miles away from the center.
The bus driver points across tea plantations, dotted with women in vibrantly colored saris wearing baskets on their head. I take it that’s the direction I’m heading. God, this is real life. I’ve seen these scenes advertised on tea bag adverts. Beautiful woman, hand woven basket on head, dressed in dazzling pinks, purples and yellows striking a stunning contrast against the green fields and bright blue sky. To be actually in this scene is phenomenal. It’s so beautiful it kind of hurts my eyes. Carrying my way too big backpack (It’s so long on my back it sits below my bum and reaches higher than my head) and wearing checked trousers with a green fisherman’s hat, its true to say, I definitely don’t blend in.
I’ve left the plantations behind and am on a dusty dirt road or path. It’s incredibly quiet up here. My footsteps sound really noisy. It’s a relief to find the air much cooler the higher up the mountains I climb. The trek has taken a while so I’m no longer in awe of the view but lost somewhere inside the millions of thoughts running through my head. As if from nowhere a guy appears on the path, snapping me back into reality and making me jump. I notice behind him a flash of orange move around a rectangular shaped building. It seems this sweaty slog of a hike is over. Thank God. I’ve arrived. This guy is a white dude, maybe 6”2, bald, muscly and he’s wearing an orange robe. Why is this western guy dressed like that? Am I going to have to wear an orange robe thing to stay here? Oh my god! In an Australian accent this strangely dressed man asks if he can help me. I don’t know how long I stand staring at him. I do know the look on my face must have portrayed my thinking because he starts really smiling and his eyes twinkle affectionately as if he finds my thoughts thoroughly amusing. He speaks again, probably realising I’m in a total state of confusion. ‘I’m Ajahn Brahm, It’s my duty, as the meet and greet monk to assist all new arrivals today. Have you booked?’ ‘You’re a monk?!’ he laughs ‘I am’. ‘I’m so sorry I’ve never met a monk, I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t you’. ‘Have you booked?’ ‘No’. I then spill my not enough money to be here story, the lady by the lake, the crazy bus journey, the tea plantations and here I am, without so much as taking a breath. ‘Follow me, women stay in those buildings over there on the left and men over there on the right. Men and women remain separate at all times’. Blimey, I think, bit extreme, isn’t it? ‘There’s no electric up here so take this candle. If you’re here longer than a week we will give you another candle. You can give me your books, magazines, personal stereos, passport and money now and I shall store them in this locked cupboard, until you leave. Here’s the schedule we expect you to follow.’ He hands me a small piece of paper; I shove it in my pocket as I digest what he’s said so far. ‘You want my passport, money, books and music?’ I feel myself retreating, I don’t like this at all. A small gentle smile is on his lips ‘This is a retreat and you are very welcome to be here, all we ask is that you follow our structure and learn our way of life.’ My stomach does somersaults. I suddenly feel really scared. I’m stuck. I don’t want to do this but I can’t afford to survive out there. I have to stay 2 weeks, I’ve no choice. Reluctantly I hand over my stereo, books, money and finally my passport. I feel like I’m free falling into a world, that until 4 hours ago, didn’t know existed. Following tango man, taking in none of the surroundings, he says ‘We don’t eat here after 12pm but if you are hungry now we could find you a small snack’. Inside my head my voice is screaming, Don’t eat after 12pm?! I’m going to starve!! Continuing through the grounds which I can’t describe to you yet because right now I’m taking in none of it he then says: ‘You will have your own room unless we get busy then we will place another lady in with you. Here’s your accommodation.’ He gestures to a concrete block with a piece of wood against the doorway. You’ve got to be kidding me. I can’t stay here. I can’t do this. I’m fighting back tears now. I’m so full of fear and I’ve nowhere to run. I’m looking at a concrete room, with 2 concrete beds and 2 mattresses made out of coconut hair. The only other item in the room is a candle holder and 2 matches. ‘Unpack Lisa, the next meditation begins in 20 minutes in that building over there’. He points to a larger rectangle of concrete. ‘Please remember, this is a silent retreat. You are only permitted to speak between 4pm and 4.30pm if invited to do so by our Spiritual teacher Godwin.’ The voices in my head explode into the peaceful surroundings. ‘SILENT?! I’ve got to be silent for 24 hours a day?’ ‘Take a look at the schedule Lisa, see you in meditation in 20 minutes.’ It’s at this point, it dawns on me, that since reading that poster in the library, I haven’t asked anyone what meditation or Buddhism is. Slumping onto the bed which feels as hard as the concrete it’s made of, I burst into tears. Full on, heart wrenching, snot producing tears. ‘I hate myself, how do I always get myself into these stupid situations, I should know better, what a stupid thing to do, landing in a country without enough money to be here, he’s got my passport and the little money I have. Nobody even knows where I am. I haven’t told a soul I’m even here. I don’t even know where I am. I hate my life. I’m so stupid.’ A sound occurs, a sound that, unexpectedly, brings with it a feeling of slight comfort. It happens 3 times. I feel a tiny bit calmer. Poking my head out of the wood, that’s acting as a door to my concrete cell, I see a small Asian man. He’s dressed in an orange robe and hitting a large round brass instrument. He notices me but doesn’t make eye contact. I watch as he slowly (and I mean so slowly it could almost be classed as non-movement) walks into the large rectangular piece of concrete. Oh my God it’s meditation time. Breaking into a sweat, I can’t breathe properly. My heart starts pounding so fast I think I might actually have a heart attack.
Side Note:
Little do I know, at this stage, that this experience is going to set the foundation for the rest of my life. That this ‘disaster’ as I’m currently seeing it, is going to be the absolute making of me as a human being. I’ve no clue at this time, that everything I learn here, I’m going to go on to teach others and that it’s these teachings that enable me to be the (mostly) happy and content person I am today. If you’ve enjoyed today’s read, join me, each Sunday, as I share all of the lessons taught to me and how you too can practice them for yourselves. I’ve ran out of word count to take you any further today, I was hoping to share lesson 1 but that will need to be next week now.
This week, I leave you, as I make my way, sweating profusely, over to the meditation room, whatever that is. Love Lisa x